


Dust

by Milfygerard



Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys - My Chemical Romance (Album), The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Comic)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:00:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23788975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Milfygerard/pseuds/Milfygerard
Summary: 𝘋𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘊𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘩𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘯 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘦𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘤𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘢𝘱𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘻𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦’𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘥𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘯𝘢𝘪𝘭𝘴
Kudos: 10





	Dust

**Author's Note:**

> Hey yall! You can also find this story in the Adult Emo zine. I'm hoping that this is going to be part one of a bigger story. Sort of a teaser to whatever i end up writing. Hope you enjoy!

Dust

Coughing, hacking dust on every inch of her tongue

Ever since she crossed city lines and collapsed into the sand of the zones, there’s been nothing but dust heaved into her lungs and trapped underneath her nails

Sometimes, she wishes she could just succumb to the dust, lie down and let it chip away at her skin and bones until she is nothing but dust herself, but most days she can drag herself along with the knowledge that she’s getting farther and farther away from them. Every inch she moves, every second she breathes, the burning of her scars remains. 

Her brain races, searching desperately for something to think about that isn’t the beating sun or burning sand. She scans the flat desert. Rocks, sand, sun, more sand, a lizard, more fucking sand, a house of some sort, more s-

Wait

She gasps, which quickly turns into a hacking cough, and drags herself towards the building, towards the first sign of civilization she’s seen in days. As she approaches, a strange, rotten stench hits her nose, causing her to stumble slightly as she approaches the shack, with its rotting wood walls, covered in unreadable posters and spray paint graffiti. The only readable signs were huge, plastered over what she assumed were once windows, now barricaded with steel. 

TOMMY CHOW MEIN’S  ZONE WEED 

SHOP AND TRADE  50% OFF 

_ well,  _ she thought,  _ I guess that explains the smell _ . She took as deep of a breath as she could, and pushed open the beat up screen door, stumbling her way into the shop. __

The shop was like nothing she had ever seen before. Every inch of the small room had something on it. A product, a tag, a name carved into the wood. There were paint stains, bleach stains, and stains she couldn’t place if she tried (and she suspects that’s for the best). Tables were organized in a dizzying, maze like order, all of them covered in strange knick knacks. Bright painted masks and guns showed up most often, though there was no shortage of other strange accessories. There were two or three dim, bare lightbulbs hanging from the ceiling, but enough sun leaking in from the boarded up windows that she could see every bit of dust in the air. She almost wanted to laugh, the dust is almost worse in this strange new place than it was on any of the flat, desolate plains she dragged herself across.

“Hey you, buy something or fuck off”

She looked up, shocked out of her stupor by the rough, haggard voice coming from beside her. She turned to see a charmingly unpleasant looking man glaring at her, loosely holding what she assumed to be a cigarette full of the aforementioned plant. This man, who she assumed to be Tommy, tapped his dirty, half painted nails on the register.

“You heard me kid, pay up or get out.”

Finally, she felt her legs move towards the man, stumbling over a large, colorful radio with  _ DIE ANOTHER DAY!!! _ Plastered on the front in scratchy, bright pink lettering. The man who may be Tommy scowled as she clambered to fix the now bent antennae on top and finally approached the register.

If the store was messy and crowded, then the register was a war zone of shapes and color. She swears she’s never seen so many  _ things  _ in her life. It ranged from damaged but official looking BLI first aid kits to drawings that look like they were made by a five year old. Her eye just caught the stacks upon stacks of damaged, dusted tapes with strange names written on the sides when she remembered the disgruntled shop owner in front of her, and refocused on the man (Is he a man? Can men have such long hair in the zones? Jewelry? What else is allowed out here?). She opened her mouth, and choked out her first word in the weeks since she ran. Dry, dusty, painfully, she utters out the word  _ water. _

Tommy sighed

“You better hope someone comes in feelin’ generous, or else you’ll be working this off for the next week.”

**Author's Note:**

> Not sure how to do hyperlinks here, so heres a copypaste of the link to get to the adult emo zine I mentioned. Please check it out, theres so much amazing art and writing in it, and so much work has gone into making it as good as it is.
> 
> http://https//issuu.com/thegestianpoet/docs/zine-issu


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